


death of a bachelor

by badskeletonpuns



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Not Really Character Death, Sappy Ending, Weddings, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9447935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskeletonpuns/pseuds/badskeletonpuns
Summary: Nureyev is probably going to die here in the desert with nothing but a gunshot wound in his side and the one and only Juno Steel trying desperately to save him. What better time to propose? (No better time.)





	1. the shadows on my face

**Author's Note:**

> i'm hoping posting the first three chapters will motivate me to write more of this. cross-posted from tumblr [here.](http://wendy-comet.tumblr.com/post/155799878122/i-wasnt-planning-on-asking-you-but-it-appeared)

Juno remembered three things about how it happened. 

The bullet. 

The blood.

The crushing realization that he would do literally anything to save the man slumped against him on the speeder, the damp warmth of his blood seeping through the back of Juno’s coat. 

“Just a little bit longer, Peter!” he called out, the wind whipping the words from his mouth. He had no idea if Peter could even hear him, but it made Juno feel better to say it. They were only a few minutes out from the town he’d been chasing along the horizon for ages, now, and they’d finally shaken their pursuers. 

Well, Juno preferred the word ‘shaken’, even if it was slightly less accurate than ‘they shot Peter and Juno immediately stopped trying to shoot to incapacitate and started shooting to kill’. 

Peter was moving against his back, Juno could feel it. Moving was good. Moving meant breathing, moving meant  _ alive.  _ They were racing the clock here, a clock that ticked in time with Peter’s heartbeats pumping the blood from his body. There had to be a hospital in this town. 

It was Mars, if they didn’t have a doctor there they’d all be dead by now.

“We’re almost there,” he yelled, and the buildings were looming large on the horizon. “Hold on!” He slammed on the speeder’s brakes as soon as they were on the town’s tiny main street, kicking up a massive dust cloud and nearly crashing into a derelict building. He let the bike fall to the ground and dragged Nureyev off of it, knowing somewhere that it was probably not wise to move him but not able to stop himself. 

“Hey!” he shouted. “Anyone home? I’ve got an injured civilian here, and if there’s any doctors in this town that give a damn about the Hippocratic Oath he’d love to make their acquaintance!” 

It took only a few seconds of shouting to draw a crowd; the town was filled with jaded miners and weary farmers who each had the same empty stare and slumped shoulders. No one stepped forward, though, even when Juno tried to point out specific people to help. They just shook their heads and took a few steps back, interested in the spectacle but not invested in the life of a stranger. 

Peter was slumped against Juno’s feet, and the stain on his shirt was still growing. 

Juno gave up on getting help from the townspeople at the sight of it. He dropped to his knees, knowing he had to do something to stop the bleeding. Peter’s shirt was already soaked with blood, so it was no real help. 

He could peel back the shirt, rinse off the wound with water from the bottle in his pack, and replace the bloodied shirt with makeshift bandage of his own shirt. It was at least marginally cleaner than his coat, and he had nothing else since  _ none of these goddamn villagers cared. _

“What the hell is wrong with these people,” he growled, and got to work on the wound. 

It didn’t take long, when all was said and done, but it was not pleasant. Juno leaned heavily on his makeshift bandage and hoped and begged and prayed to any deity that came to mind. 

The moments then seemed to stretch into hours, Juno’s arms quickly straining and his back hunched awkwardly to keep pressuring the wound. Most of the townspeople scattered after Juno stopped shouting, like cockroaches returning to their holes. 

He could smell Peter’s blood in the air, heavy with salt and iron. There was barely a breeze now, scattering sand grains across the empty road. 

Peter moved beneath him even now, his breathing ragged but constant, unfailing. Still alive, it said. Still here. If Juno listened hard enough, it almost sounded like Peter was actually saying something. 

(He hadn’t said a word since he’d been shot, and if the last memory Juno had of his voice was of him shouting Juno’s name in one of the only times he’d ever heard Peter Nureyev scared, well… Juno didn’t want that to be his last memory.” 

“Juno,” Peter wheezed, and Juno almost dropped his hands from the wound to grab Peter’s face and pull him into a kiss. He didn’t, though, because he wasn’t that much of an idiot. 

“Peter,” he said instead, hating that desperate edge in his voice but unable to curb it. 

“You’re okay?” Peter asked him, and all Juno can picture is Peter shoving him out of the way of that bullet, all he can hear is Peter shouting his name.    
  
“I’m fine,” he whispered, and it was not true at all. 

Peter didn’t believe him, Juno could tell, but he smiled at Juno anyway. “You know,” he murmured, “I wasn’t planning on asking… But I’ve recently realized that life is-” he coughed, sharp and painful- “Life is short. Will you marry me?” 

For a good second Juno was certain he’d misheard Peter, but there was nothing that belied Peter’s question in that genuine smile or those dark eyes and the way he reached up to touch Juno’s face with one hand. 

“You goddamn idiot,” he breathed instead.

Peter’s grin was all sharp teeth and mischief. “That’s a yes, right?”   
  
Juno couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “If you die now, I hope you realize that I’m going to hold a séance to summon you so that  _ I _ don’t have to be the one to tell Rita you asked me to marry you without asking her first.”

Peter shrugged and then winced as it pulled on his wound. “I’ve dealt with my share of protective family in the past, darling, I’m sure I can handle one woman.” 

“You haven’t seen Rita try to stop me from going into work when she thinks I’m sick.” Juno leaned a little further forward, afraid he might bruise Peter more than the bullet wound already had but  _ terrified  _ his apparently now-fiancé might bleed out on the desert sands. “Trust me, when you survive this you’ll have hell to pay with her.” 

“I look forward to any future with you, Juno,” Peter promised with what was probably the sappiest expression to ever be made by a human, and he was right. The two of them  _ had _ a future together and Juno was not about to lose it like this. 

He was going to find a goddamn doctor and get them both out of here alive, and then he was going to kiss Peter Nureyev like the man had just been shot. (Which is to say, avoiding being too rough with the wound in his side and with a hell of a lot more tenderness than Juno would ever admit to out loud.)

Yeah, he thought to himself. They were going to be just fine. 


	2. my heart on my chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hospitals, feelings, jupeter, oh my!

The hospital was cool, thin blankets and gowns doing as much as they could to keep out the chill but falling short.

Juno was glad of his jacket, and he pulled it tighter around himself as he sat in the hard plastic chair. He’d pulled the chair as close to Nureyev’s bed as he could and had been waiting for him to wake up for… He wasn’t actually sure at this point. It had been a while. 

His head hurt and his stomach was growling like an angry rabbit, but Juno refused to leave until he knew for sure Nureyev would be okay.

The doctor in charge said he'd be fine, they'd removed the bullet that was trying to settle too close to some internal organs and fully dressed the wound. But Nureyev had lost a _ lot  _ of blood, and it had been touch and go for too long. So Juno was worried, and he was not going to go anywhere until he saw Nureyev open his eyes and was assured he was okay. 

He’d gotten into the hospital with Nureyev by claiming they were Duke and Dahlia Rose again, and of course no one would throw out a man’s husband. 

So here Juno sat, clutching Nureyev’s hand with both of his own, bowed over the bed like he’s praying. (He was. He was more than fairly certain that even if anyone was listening, they didn’t care, but he prayed anyway.) 

At the first twitch of movement from Nureyev, Juno sat up, gaze immediately focused on his… fiancé? He wasn’t sure what to call him now, not, officially, but none of that mattered because Nureyev was blinking awake. 

He caught Juno’s eye, and the grin he offered up was still weak but the sharp teeth and mischievous eyes were all Nureyev. “Did I die?” he murmured, and squeezed Juno’s hand. “Because you must be an angel.” 

Juno couldn’t help himself. He started laughing, laughing so hard he was crying - he’d maybe wanted to cry for the past hour, but hadn’t let himself. It was all bubbling to the surface at once, in a mess of gross laughing sobs and Nureyev trying to pull him closer in concern, gunshot wound be damned. He could still cry from both eye sockets, he realized, trying to rub the dampness from his face with one hand and not letting go of Nureyev with the other. That was weird. 

“Juno, Juno, darling, I’m sorry, are you alright?” Nureyev was still holding Juno as close as he could get without Juno actually being in the hospital bed, reaching up to wipe away an errant tear. “I didn’t think the joke was that bad - just, tell me what’s going on?” 

“I’m fine,” Juno sniffed, and once the crying and laughing had subsided all that was left was an idiotically large grin that he couldn’t seem to stop. “You’re an idiot,” he said, and leaned down to kiss Nureyev. “And you almost died,” he breathed between kisses, “and maybe I like you more than I’d ever anticipated.” 

Nureyev laughed and it was sunshine until it trailed off into coughing. Juno drew back, one hand still clasped in Nureyev’s and the other tangled in Nureyev’s hair. “You just went through surgery,” he said, when Nureyev had finished coughing and had started reaching back up for Juno. “Somehow, I don’t think sex was in the doctor’s list of relaxing activities you’re supposed to do until your skin knits back together.”   
  


When Nureyev pouted, Juno’s resolve was sorely tested. “Junebug, I’m sure we can have very relaxing sex.” 

“... Not here,” Juno folded like a losing hand of Rangian Street Poker, but he would like to think that he had some standards. “Can you at least wait until you’re discharged from the hospital, or am I just that irresistible?” 

“Oh, Juno, you’re  _ always _ irresistible,” Nureyev purred, but he lay back against the pillows and did not keep trying to seduce Juno. Which was very lucky, because in the face of Nureyev’s flushed lips and dark eyes, Juno wasn’t sure his standards could have held up much longer. “At least come closer, perhaps? I’m cold.” 

That was a request Juno was happy to answer, and he carefully slipped into the hospital bed next to Nureyev. They were quiet for a moment as they settled into each other, limbs intertwined and extra-cautious around the wound in Nureyev’s side. 

Then Juno spoke. “How much do you remember of how you got shot?” 

“Most of it,” Nureyev murmured, “I have an excellent memory.” He was close enough that Juno could feel Nureyev’s breath stirring his hair. Could smell his cologne, only just noticeable over the scent of blood and hospital chemicals. 

“Do you remember-” 

“-Proposing? Of course, Juno.” Nureyev sat up a little, just enough to look Juno in the eyes. “I’m not the kind of man who goes back on his word.” 

Juno leaned up to kiss him, just lightly. “I’m glad.” 

He didn’t say anything else, didn’t say anything about how much he was stupid in love with the man on the hospital bed, didn’t say that there’d been a couple of hours when he’d been goddamn  _ terrified _ Nureyev wouldn’t make it through, didn’t say how he’d marry him under a hundred different names, a hundred different times. 

He got the feeling Nureyev could guess that much on his own. 

“So,” Juno said, after a long minute. “Wanna place bets on how excited Rita will be when she finds out I’m engaged?” 

Nureyev chuckled, but it was slow and weary and his eyes were closing again - once, twice. “Maybe she can give you away at the wedding,” he mumbled, and fell asleep with his head resting on Juno’s and tucked as close as he can be to his detective without disturbing his wound. 

Juno smiled, and let himself relax. Maybe he could catch a quick nap before the doctor came back… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cross-posted from tumblr, [here](http://wendy-comet.tumblr.com/post/155933659952/jupeter-prompt-007). maybe leave a comment/kudos if you liked?


	3. walking the long road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crossposted from tumblr [here!](http://wendy-comet.tumblr.com/post/155985667782/is-it-possible-to-love-too-much-jupeter-1-of) there's rita and sappy jupeter flirting and fake names literally what else could anyone want

Rita broke the lamp on her desk when Juno told her. 

Or, well, that wasn’t quite how it happened. 

He and Nureyev walked in the door to Juno’s office, draped over each other  _ not _ out of the inability to keep their hands off of each other, but due to Nureyev’s very real weakness still left by the bullet hole in his side. 

Rita took one look at them and gasped. “Mister Steel!” she exclaimed, and jumped out of her seat, almost vaulting over her desk, and jumped over to wrap both him and Nureyev in a hug. “Is this your boyfriend? Have I met him before? Gee, he looks an awful lot like that fella from Dark Matters who was here a while back, what was his name? Tex? Dex?” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right, it was Becks!” 

Nureyev winced, both at Rita’s butchering of Rex Glass and at the amount of pressure she was exerting on his ribs. “Miss Rita, was it?” he got out. “I have a little bit of a gunshot wound I received protecting your employer, so it would be, amazing, if you could perhaps set me down?” 

“Oh, of  _ course _ Mister Becks!” She set both of them down with more gentleness than Juno would have previously thought possible. “Now, where were you two? I know you can take care of yourself, Mister Steel, but I was worried sick about you! And now you show back up with this guy who disappeared and broke your heart - don’t say he didn’t, you were moping for weeks! - and he’s got a bullet wound and you’ve got this really weird look on your face, am I being too loud?” Rita walked back over to her desk and jumped up onto it, sitting on the surface and waiting for Juno’s answer. 

Juno shook his head, the ‘weird look’ on his face expanding into something that could maybe be called a smile. “Just glad to be home, Rita. Also, uh… ‘Becks’ here and I are going to get married.” 

That was when she broke the lamp. 

She almost broke Juno’s ribs, when she hugged him. And almost ripped out Nureyev’s stitches, when she grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him down till they were eye level and threatened to kill him if he ever left Juno like he did again.

It was kinda sweet, actually. 

Juno finally convinced her to head home and get some sleep with the promise that he and ‘Becks’ would do the same soon, and that they would definitely talk to her about the color scheme for their wedding and let her introduce them to her cousin who was “seriously,  _ so _ good at designing wedding invites, boss, you wouldn’t believe it!” 

Once Hurricane Rita had left the area, Juno let his back fall against the wall and slowly sank to the floor. “You know she’s going to go home and look you up and realize that “Becks” doesn’t exist, right?” 

Nureyev gingerly sat next to his fiance, put a hand on Juno’s shoulder. “You know, technically, none of my identities exist beyond the paper trail I’ve created for them. And Peter Nureyev adores Juno Steel, but he can’t exactly get married.” 

“Yeah,” Juno sighed, and let his head fall to rest on Nureyev’s shoulder. “We should probably figure that out.” 

“I mean, I could probably forge the papers for you and I under any of my names, if you wanted,” Nureyev mused. He twined their hands together, Juno’s calluses and rough nails contrasting with Nureyev’s smooth skin and smattering of freckles. “But I wouldn’t need a ceremony for that, and I like the idea of a ceremony.” He held their hands up, kissed Juno’s knuckles. “I want to show as many people as possible how much this matters, how much  _ you _ matter, to me. To all of me, under Duke or Rex or any other name.” 

Juno turned in towards Nureyev, burying his face in the other man’s shoulder to hide the flush spreading across his cheeks. “That’s the sappiest thing I’ve ever heard.” He wondered for a second if it was possible to love too much, too fiercely, because the feeling in his chest is so sharp and immediate that it hurts, and Juno could do nothing in the face of it. He’d do anything to keep this idiot alive.

For now, Juno settled on carefully moving over till he was facing Nureyev and straddling the other man’s legs. “You’re an idiot,” he told him, and then, quieter. “You’re my idiot, and you’re not allowed to take any more bullets for me, okay?” 

Nureyev laughed, and it didn’t turn into a coughing fit this time. “Anything you want, Junebug, but on one condition.” He slid a hand into Juno’s hair, tugging the detective down into a kiss. “You aren’t allowed to take any bullets for me, either. We’re in this together.” 

Juno smiled, knowing Nureyev would be able to feel it against his lips. “Sure thing.” 

They kiss again, and again, seconds melting into minutes that dragged on, extended by the sheer desire to have Nureyev’s lips on his for one more moment, to feel this incandescent emotion for just a little longer. 

Nureyev had to pull away first, breathing hard and with one hand pressed to his ribs. “I’m fine-” he said, responding to Juno’s unasked question. “I just need to catch my breath.” 

Juno sat back, gave Nureyev space. 

Once Nureyev was breathing normally again, Juno started to lean in, only to be stopped by a hand on his chest. “I might have an idea as to how we can have a ceremony,” Nureyev said. There was a dangerous gleam in his eye, and Juno raised an eyebrow. 

“Spill.”

“Alright, so remember how you said Rita wouldn’t find anything when she looked up Becks? Well, what if she  _ did, _ because she put it there? Many of my other identities have… backstories of their own, already attached. But from what I hear of her, Rita is a very talented hacker. I’m sure you can convince her to draw up some new paperwork. Becks is a sweetheart, I’m certain. Fresh off the jewel of Saturn’s rings, ready to fall in love with a local, get married too fast…” 

Juno shoved Nureyev, pushing him back against the wall. “Stop monologuing, you dork, and kiss me.”

“Gladly,” Nureyev murmured, and leaned in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooner or later i'm going to run out of chapters from tumblr to post but nOT YET  
> anyway. hope you liked this! maybe leave a comment or kudos if you did, or hit me up on tumblr?


	4. share one more drink with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sappy conversations on rooftops <3

Rita probably could have made a hell of a lot of money planning weddings - Juno was glad she hadn’t discovered this true passion before he’d hired her as an assistant. She took to it like light to a gravity well, and with only the minimum of complaints about the small size of the ceremony.

Nureyev didn’t have anyone he wanted to invite. His exact words had been “Juno, the only person I trust enough to invite to something like this is the one I’m getting married to.” The discussion had trailed off after that, words and sentences replaced by touches and sighs and moans. Their discussions tended to follow that route when Nureyev said things like that. 

Juno had relented under Rita’s passive-aggressive reminders and agreed to invite Sasha and Mick. “They’re your friends, Mister Steel, they love you! I promise, I can get invites to both of ‘em, priority and everything!” 

The flowers were bought (dahlias and roses, because Nureyev was a goddamn drama queen who couldn’t resist the callback to dear Dahlia Rose), the venue booked (somewhere small, but it promised to be sand-free and a traditional Earth aesthetic that Nureyev had downright cooed over), and the food and drinks catered (turns out in addition to being tall glasses of water themselves, Vicky’s vixens and regnards were all excellent at mixing drinks and cooking. It also helped that service was free to old friends getting married, on the condition that she and her wife could attend the ceremony.)

Nureyev apparently just ‘happened to own’ two white suits that were totally coincidentally tailored to fit him and Juno. 

Yeah, there was no way he didn’t con someone into making them.

Juno didn’t mind. He especially didn’t mind when they tried the suits on. Look, it was in no way his fault that they both looked that good in suits. Therefore, it was also not his fault that they almost ruined said suits having a little bit of fun. 

Things were going well.

Too well. 

It was autumn on Mars, the season just beginning to turn into winter. Sand pale as snow scattered across the streets, chased by wind like a fox after a rabbit. The chill in the air deadened the usual metal-blood-trash stink of the city, and the colors all seemed crisper.    
  
Nureyev seemed even more dramatic and sappy than usual - which was saying a lot, considering the man had literally proposed while actively dying. He was always tugging Juno out of the apartment on long walks, insisting that the fresh air was good for them. Juno was still of the mind that there was no real ‘fresh’ air in Hyperion City, but there wasn’t a lot he could do in the face of that beaming grin on Nureyev’s face. 

One night, Juno woke up to a shrill sound just outside his window and a chill at his side. “Peter?” he called out, reaching over with one hand and finding no slim thief lying next to him. He sat up and rubbed his eye with one hand, trying to blink the sleep away. His window was open. A breeze whistled a jaunty tune through it, sending bits of ash and grit onto his floor. 

Juno sighed and shook his head. It would take forever to get that dust out. 

Still. At least it was a clue. Nureyev probably went out the window - the fire escape was not up to anyone’s code, practically rusting off the building, but that wouldn’t stop him. Wouldn’t stop Juno, either. He might not have the same lithe agility as his fiancé but he had stubborn strength to spare. Juno carefully climbed out of his window, balancing on the sill outside and planning the best way up the side. 

It shrieked as he climbed, shrill and panicky. Juno hauled himself onto the rooftop with a grunt and sat down on the rough surface. “Peter?” he said, glancing around. The other man wasn’t visible at first glance, even with the light of both Phobos and Deimos in the sky tonight.

Juno saw his shadow first, clear enough that he almost expected it to start moving on its own. Then he saw Nureyev, a stark silhouette standing atop a vent stack. He didn’t seem to have noticed Juno just yet, staring up at the stars just beyond Mars’ atmosphere. 

  
There were even less than usual tonight - the combination of the city’s regular light pollution and the electric shimmer of the shield stretching over them plus the presence of both of Mars’ moons would do that. 

Neither of them said anything. Juno stood still for a moment, barely able to make out any details on Nureyev’s face. He couldn’t stay like that for long, though. It was barely a few seconds later when he was pulling himself up onto the vent next to Nureyev. Atop the vent it was warmer, explaining why Nureyev’s lack of a shirt didn’t seem to bother him. Juno sat at Nureyev’s feet and leaned back against his legs. 

“You can see a lot more stars in Old Town,” he murmured. “One of the only good things about that hellhole.” 

Nureyev just hummed a little, focused on something in the sky above. Juno waited, knowing the thief would talk when he was ready. Before he said anything, Nureyev sat down next to him. There wasn’t much space on the top of the vent, and they were both entangled with each other. It was nice, the solid warmth of Nureyev next to him, the sound of Nureyev’s breath just above the hiss of the vent. 

“I’ve been to almost every star you can see from here,” Nureyev said. He still wasn’t looking at Juno, still focused on that galaxy surrounding them. “If it were clear, I wouldn’t be able to say that. Only the brightest stars and planets are visible now, and most of those have been colonized in some way.” 

Juno let his head fall to the side, resting on Nureyev’s shoulder. One of Nureyev’s hands found his, and clasped it tight. 

“That dim one in the distance - that’s Ceres. The largest object in the asteroid belt, and there is a gorgeous view of Jupiter every night. There’s only a few scientific institutes on it and a thin atmosphere, so there’s almost nothing to block the view.” He sounded - not quite wistful, not really nostalgic. Juno wasn’t sure what name to put that voice. 

Quiet, maybe, if he had to pick a word. He’d never been good with describing things like that. 

He squeezed Nureyev’s hand, and Nureyev must have taken that as leave to continue. 

“That looks like one star, right there, but it’s actually two stars, orbited by a single planet. The Trio, they’re called unofficially, and the human settlers there have their own mythology about how the star and the planets were once humans themselves. No one would accept the way the three of them felt about each other, and they were killed for it.”   
  
Juno couldn’t stop himself from breathing in sharply, giving away his worry. 

Nureyev laughed, still too quiet. “Don’t worry, darling. They rose up and to become the stars themselves after death, to spend as long as they wanted in each other’s orbit.” He sighed, and that was definitely wistful. “The people there threw some truly outstanding parties in spring to celebrate the Trio’s love.” 

They didn’t look at each other, both men gazing out at the stars. 

When someone spoke again, it was Juno, eyes fastened on what he was pretty sure was Ceres. “Sasha, Mick, and I used to watch the stars all the time. We had to sneak out, but that was the only time no one was yelling at us, no one had to worry about being attacked or what we were going to eat tomorrow, or anything. We would all haul up whatever blankets we could to the roof of this abandoned old skyscraper and just lie there. Mick made up stories about the constellations, Sasha told him where he was wrong… And I just listened.” 

“You fell asleep, didn’t you?” 

Juno grinned. “You know me too well.” The grin fell, and he shook his head. “We had to stop when an unwarned sandstorm almost killed all three of us.”

There was something about this moment. Something about the stars, what few of them they could see. Something about the chill of the night air fighting with the heated vent and Nureyev’s presence at his side. Juno felt safe, even if a sniper in literally any building nearby could probably take both of them out in less than a minute in their current position. 

He shouldn’t think about that. Might ruin the mood. 

“Juno - “ Nureyev was speaking again, more hesitant this time but soldiering forward. “I would never give this - give  _ you _ up, you know that, right? I love you, and Mars is beautiful in the autumn, and I wouldn’t trade waking up to you for all of the creds in the galaxy -”

“But you miss the way things used to be?” Juno guessed, and he didn’t look over but he could feel Nureyev nodding. 

“It’s just different now,” Nureyev sighed. “And it’s wonderful, I promise, it’s just… different.” 

“Hey, hey, Peter.” Juno did turn to face Nureyev now, and their proximity meant they were almost nose-to-nose. “It’s okay. Being married doesn’t mean you have to drop everything and build a white-picket fence and adopt a dog or any old tradition like that, and it doesn’t mean you have to stay on Mars.” 

“But I want to stay with you, I-” 

“You’ll always have me, Peter. Promise.” Juno leaned forward, drawing Nureyev into a slow kiss. “I’m not going anywhere.” He wanted to tell Nureyev he loved him, would break a million laws for him, would do anything except leave this city behind, but couldn’t quite figure out how to form the words. He thought Nureyev got it, though, felt it with Juno’s hand tucked into his own and Juno’s lips a slow heat against his. 

At least he hoped he did. 

They parted, no more than a few centimeters. Juno could smell Nureyev’s cologne, rich and heady in the air around them. 

“Just promise to come back, okay?” he whispered. “And you aren’t allowed to die on some distant planet.” 

“I promise,” Nureyev breathed, and pulled Juno into another kiss. “Junebug,” he murmured, in breaks between kisses. “Do you perhaps want to head back to your apartment, drink ourselves silly, and fall into bed like newlyweds on their honeymoon, with no regard for tomorrow? I promise I have an excellent hangover cure.” 

Juno laughed, and pressed a kiss to Nureyev’s jaw. “Your ‘miracle hangover cure’ couldn’t possibly beat mine, but sure, Peter, let’s go for it.”

Tonight, the two of them would spend exactly as Nureyev had described. Spend hours just together, just soaking up the warmth of being dumb in love and drunk off the feeling and the alcohol, kissing slow and unhurried. Tomorrow would arrive sooner rather than later, but they were going to enjoy every moment they had now.

After all, they were going to get married tomorrow. 

Nureyev would probably leave after that, and Juno had no idea where to or for how long. He’d always come back, though. 

That was all that mattered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! I promise there'll be actual wedding shenanigans soon.


	5. how could i ask for more?

Juno couldn’t get his bow tie to knot correctly. He kept fumbling the material, sim-silk slipping through his fingers every time. This had to be his fifth try, and it was still coming out uneven or lumpy.   
   
“Rita, are you sure I have to wear this thing?” he shouted, and his assistant and probably closest friend if he was being sappy poked her head into the dressing room.  
   
 _“Yes, _Mister Steel! It’s gonna look great, promise. Becks won’t know what hit him when he sees you.” Rita jogged into his room, only half-ready herself. Her hair was still in curlers, and she was holding her heels in one hand. She was holding some small black pins in her mouth, and as she walked over she dropped them and the shoes on the ground. “Come here, let me help. I used to do this all the time when I was dating Rich, did I ever tell you that? She was a looker, but the girl could not tie a bow tie for the life of her.”  
   
Juno abandoned his own tying efforts with a sigh, and obediently turned away from the mirror to face Rita. “I give up.”  
   
Rita nodded and took the two ends of the fabric in her hands. “I don’t think you ever knew Rich, Mister Steel. That’s all good, though, you two would definitely not have gotten along.” She giggled, remembering some memory she was definitely about to tell Juno. “You know, one time she took me to this big party - I think it was for some art gallery or other? Anyway, she was going on and on about all the good memories she’d made with those art pieces even if a lot of ‘em were real grumpy looking in my opinion, and it was so sweet, she told me all about how they meant so much to her! These paintings were like her best friend, and if any dumb secret agent spy type people tried to break their heart she would make ab-so-lutely certain that no one would ever find that person again. You hear me, ever!” She finished the knot with a jerk, tying it off tightly enough that Juno started to wheeze.  
   
“Rita I can’t breathe please loosen the tie!”   
   
“Oh, whoops! Sorry, boss.” She tugged at the ends of the bowtie, fiddling with it till Juno was no longer being strangled and the shape was up to her standards. “There! You look wonderful, I don’t like saying ‘I told you so’, but really, look! I’m right, you gotta admit.” Rita took Juno’s shoulders, turning him till he faced the mirror.   
   
She was right, not that Juno would ever admit it out loud. “About those paintings,” he said, in lieu of admitting that maybe the bowtie did look pretty snappy.   
   
“Yeah?” Rita grins at him in the mirror.  
   
“I think, uh… They might not be very good at saying it, but these paintings probably really appreciate this friend. She might even be their best friend.”   
   
Rita giggled. “Of course they ain’t good at saying it, they’re just paint on a canvas. Paintings don’t have mouths, silly. Well, I mean, sometimes they do if they’re pictures of people, but they aren’t the kind of 3D people who can actually talk!” She quieted and smiled. “You’re my best friend too, Mister Steel.”   
   
“If you hug me, you’re fired.”   
   
“Aw, you don’t mean that!”   
   
“I do, I really do, I-okay, I’m being hugged.” Rita hugged Juno from behind, grinning like mad and maybe tearing up just a little bit. It was admittedly, a pretty good hug. And maybe Juno was also grinning.   
   
“Oh my gosh, Mister Steel, I just realized!” Rita stepped back, frowning. “What am I gonna call you after you get married, ‘Mister Becks’? But that sounds terrible, no good at all, what are we gonna do? You can’t married, I’m sorry boss but-”  
   
“Rita, I promise, I’m staying Juno Steel.”   
   
“Oh, okay, I _guess _you can get married then.”____  
   
Juno laughed. “Glad you think so. I didn’t want to leave Becks at the altar.”   
   
“And I’m very glad you feel that way, darling.” Peter slipped through the door into the room, stepping between Rita and Juno. He drew Juno close and pressed a kiss to his cheek.   
   
“Mister Becks!” Rita gasped. “You can’t be in here, it’s bad luck!”  
   
“I make my own luck,” Peter murmured against Juno’s jaw. Juno turned in his arms to face him, intending to defend Rita’s point but losing track when Peter started to dance slowly and pulled Juno along. “And I’m sure Juno doesn’t mind.”   
   
He raised one hand, leading Juno into a spin that thanks to a hasty series of dance lessons Juno could actually complete without falling over. Juno didn’t want to think about how ridiculous he looked right now, grinning at Rita over Peter’s shoulder and slow-dancing in this tiny room. “Come on, Rita,” he said. “I’m getting married today, just give me five minutes.”   
   
“Oh, alright,” she said. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” Rita left the room, grabbing her shoes and pins that she’d dropped on the way in. “But just five minutes, okay? No funny business!”   
   
There wasn’t any music playing and Juno’s dressing room was really too small to actually dance, but they weren’t about to let that stop them. Peter was humming a soft tune, something Juno couldn’t put a name to. They’d both been caught up in the rush of planning every detail of this (Juno took a moment to be unspeakably grateful that it was going to be a small wedding). It was nice to be alone. Juno let his head rest against Peter’s chest, and Peter leaned his head on Juno’s.  
   
Their movements got smaller, till they weren’t really doing anything more than swaying back and forth. “Hey, Peter,” Juno whispered, not moving his head. “I’ve gotta ask you something important.”   
   
   
Peter stopped humming and made an inquisitory sound - more into Juno’s hair than actually to Juno, but it was close enough.  
   
Juno pulled back, looking into Peter’s eyes with the most serious expression he could muster. “Did you actually steal these suits from someone? Because I think I found a vital clue to an unsolved murder in one of the pockets, and I really don’t know how I feel about that.”  
   
God, Juno was embarrassingly in love with the sound of Peter’s laugh. Peter spun the two of them around, almost lifting Juno off his feet. “Junebug, I promise I did not steal these suits,” he somehow got out through his laughter. “On my honor.” He slowed their spin bit by bit, but kept turning in an easy waltz.   
   
Juno snorted. “What honor?” He let Peter spin him out again, and pull him in till his back was against Peter’s chest.   
   
“I’ll borrow yours,” Peter said, leading Juno into a series of turns. They almost ran into one of the walls, Juno stepping to the side just in time.   
   
“As long as you bring it back.”   
   
“Always, Junebug,” promised Peter. He completed one last step before dipping Juno almost to the floor. “Love you,” he murmured, and kissed Juno lightly.   
   
Before he could stand back up, Juno kissed him again. Heated and slow and everything Juno wasn’t sure he could say out loud, communicated in the press of their lips and the heat between them. Somewhere in the motions, somewhere in Juno’s arms around Peter’s neck and Peter smiling ridiculously big against Juno’s lips, Peter ended up kneeling on the ground because he couldn’t keep dipping Juno and kissing him at the same time.   
   
They pulled away to catch their respective breaths, unable to stop looking at each other and smiling. It was dumb and emotional and Juno’s face kind of hurt from all the grinning, but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind.   
   
Hell, he had to say it at some point. God knows he felt it.   
   
Juno tugged Nureyev into a hug, sitting up to get a better angle. “I love you too,” he muttered into Nureyev’s neck. “Don’t you dare die in space, I refuse to be a grieving widow.”   
   
Peter just nodded. Juno could feel the motion more than he could see it, feel Peter’s arms tighten around him.   
   
Look, Juno wasn’t crying. That wouldn’t make any sense, he was getting married to the first person he’d really loved and trusted and allowed to love and trust him in return in a long time, he shouldn’t be crying. And if he was crying, it would be just a little bit.   
   
Juno sat back from Nureyev, still smiling slightly. Maybe his eyes were kind of red from the not-crying, but Nureyev didn’t say anything. He just kissed Juno’s forehead. “I’d better go before Rita calls the police to evict me,” he said.   
   
“I wouldn’t let ‘em,” Juno says almost on instinct, and the vitriol for Hyperion’s police force is half-hearted but the adoration in his voice is immense.   
   
He’s gonna miss moments like this when Peter leaves.  
   
But Peter’s always gonna come back.   
   
Juno stood, and pulled Nureyev to his feet as well. “See you at the altar?” he asks.   
   
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Nureyev says. He blows one last kiss to Juno and slips out the door. Juno watches him go, smiling.   
   
He’ll see him again soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second to last chapter! last chapter will contain actual wedding ceremony stuffs and also probably spoilers for juno steel and the lesson learned pt 2, but as i'm sure you've all realized this one contains neither of those things. but it DOES contain sappy, sappy jupeter and juno and rita being the best of friends.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment if you liked? catch me on tumblr as wendy-comet, and i am always taking penumbra prompts.


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